Falling and Love
by Sony89
Summary: Aziraphale is miserable after having stopped Armageddon. But why? Because he's lovesick. And it's awful.


_Based on the beloved book and now TV Series "Good Omens"_

* * *

**Falling and Love**

It was strange, but since the dawn of creation, the forces of heaven and hell were not sure which side had invented the concept of „Love" and all there was to it.

Angels, as they were beings of „Love", said it was their invention, as it brought peace, harmony, friendship, companionship and overall happiness to the world.

However, as the saying went, when one „Fell in Love" there was actually a lot of _falling_ involved.

And if someone knew how it felt like to fall, it was a demon.

With falling in Love came endless opportunities of hurt, betrayal, mischief, heartbreak and so on. When one creature opened it's heart to another, claiming to love, there was the opportunity of using this love for one's own purposes without the feeling ever being mutual. And when the one falling in love finally (crash-) landed and was forced to admit that reality was not in the favour of the loving, it hurt._ A lot._

The same discussion took place on the topic of sex. While demons claimed that it was sinful, dirty and just _too much fun_ to be holy, the angels saw it as an act of trust, an act of creating new life and giving birth to a new soul as a result of two creatures loving each other.

Whether the sensation of an _orgasm_ was heavenly bliss or sinful indulgence, neither was sure.

Somewhere in a bookshop in London Soho, an angel called Aziraphale had been thinking about Love and Falling for a long time – for decades in fact, but more so for the last two weeks. Being an angel, he was especially sensitive when it came to Love. He could feel it all around him, when couples who were meant for each other did something as innocent as holding hands for example. For him, Love was something to be cherished. Love was something that could be found in every aspect of life and creation.

But there was one thing that could not possibly be right, for it defied every definition and rule he had ever been taught: Loving a _demon_ could not possibly be _right_. It was _possible_, but it couldn't be _right_. Could it?

And yet, Aziraphale could recall the exact moment he had fallen in love with the demon Crowley. He had fallen, and he had fallen _hard_. But maybe it had not been a sudden fall after all. Maybe knowing the demon for centuries, becoming friends, allies – maybe he had been falling for years and the realisation that he was in love had hit him as hard as the bomb had hit the church that could have discorporated them both.

After years and years of friendship, he had finally realised that at the moment Crowley handed him the bag of books he had thought lost in the Blitz, that he was in love with his "enemy".

He had always told himself and others that he was a soul with a body, not a body with a soul.  
He had fallen in love with a soul - that was coincidentally a demon as well. With a human body however came urges... _carnal_ urges. But those were things that belonged in the department that demons were good at. Aziraphale himself knew how to deal with these urges of course, but acting upon them always made him feel a bit guilty.

Still, since that fateful night of the Blitz, where Crowleys fingers had slightly brushed his when he had given him his bag, goosebumps travelled over the skin of his human body every time the demon came near him. And he had craved the demons touch ever since.

Ever since that moment the angels heart had been jumping, sometimes from joy, most of the time with hurt, only to be replaced with a flash of warmth when Crowley realised he had done something _quite wrong_ and had apologised.

Aziraphale also remembered the first lie he had ever told. It was a stain on his soul that he would never be able to remove.

"We are not friends. I don't even like you.", he had said, and the words had stabbed his heart about just as much as they had Crowleys. The hurt in the demons eyes had been obvious and just for a moment there had been an innocence in the demons eyes and a look of disbelieve. There were some words that one just didn't say. Especially if they were not true.

He was an angel, so it was in his nature to forgive. But he was not sure he could forgive himself for the words he had uttered, even if Crowley had.  
When Crowley had insulted him ("How can someone so clever as you be so stupid?") he had automatically uttered the words "I forgive you." But there was nothing to forgive. Crowley by then could have done anything, all the horrible things a demon was capable of doing, and Aziraphale would still have loved him.

Crowley and him had succeeded in stopping Armageddon. That had been a good deed, he was sure of it. They had celebrated at the Ritz. They had parted that afternoon, promising to meet each other again soon.

Stopping the Apocalypse however, Aziraphale realised, had put him in very close proximity to the demon throughout the days prior to the 'not-end-of-the-world'. And now, just a week later, the Angel sat in his bookshop, miserable, feeling alone.  
Yes, he had saved his beloved world. But he had not seen Crowley for a week. In the old days, a week had gone by like the blink of an eye.

In the past they had not seen each other for decades and it had been fine. So why was he longing for the demons company now?

As he sat in his bookshop, cradling a first folio edition of Shakespeares complete works (he had always managed to bring joy to his being but failed on this particular evening), he felt lonely and sad. And disembodied somehow. Dazed.

He was in such a deep trance apparently that he didn't realise Crowley storming into his bookshop, panting, drenched from the rain outside, leaning against the front door after shutting it with a loud bang.

"Angel. _Oi_!"

From the corner of his eyes, Aziraphale suddenly noticed Crowley, but instead of a happy one, a somewhat sad smile found it's way onto his face.

"Crowley. Oh, dear, why are you so wet?"

For the first time that evening the angel realised that there was a rainstorm outside. It seemed as if the very heavens were crying. Tears that only flowed when a heart was broken. Very strange.

Crowley ignored the question, stomped through the book store, went onto his knees and searched for Aziraphales eyes, looking at him from all angles, sniffing. And the most peculiar thing was the concerned look on the demons face.

"For Hells sake, I hoped I was wrong.", he said. "I was hoping a bunch of demons were attacking you or something."

"H-How very kind of you?", Aziraphale said.

"Have you any idea how worried I was?"

Crowley stood up, started pacing through the book store, while Aziraphale watched him, absolutely confused.

"Worried? What made you worried?"

"You, you daft angel!"

"Me?"

Crowley waved his hand and seconds later, a glass of single malt scotch was in his hand. He drained the liquid in a single gulp.

"I'm at home, spraying my plants, thinking of nothing good, when all of a sudden this _heavy_ and powerful cloud of _pure misery_ hits me, right in the gut.", he said.

Aziraphale was on his feet in a second, concerned.

"What? Are you alright, dear?"

"I'm fine, you idiot! It's you I was worried about! All this misery and longing... it's coming from you! Haven't you noticed the weather, for go- for heavens-... for somebody's sake? I thought you were being attacked by a bunch of my ex-people. They're always surrounded by a cloud of mischief and sadness. But instead I find you moping in your bookshop, changing the weather with your aura of absolute misery."

It took him a few moments, but suddenly Aziraphale realised that he really was feeling kind of miserable. Miserable and lonely, because he was in love with a demon and was too afraid to act upon it. Not afraid of love. But afraid that he would get rejected. Afraid that he would lose his one and only friend. Afraid of being alone forever.

The rain, instead of letting up, was crashing down even harder and Aziraphale took a deep breath, trying to calm his soul. It only worked a bit.

"So you came over, because you were worried about me?", he asked.

The demon shrugged, but his eyes were still curious, concerned, trying to figure out what had made the angels so miserable in the first place.

"So what's the matter, angel? Did one of your precious first edition books get a coffee stain on it or something?"

"I-It's nothing really. You don't need to be concerned, I'm fine."

"_Fine?_!", Crowley shrieked, once again pointing at the weather outside. "Rain is normal for London, mate, but out there it's... well.. unpleasant. So will you just tell me who or what made you so miserable so I can deal with it?"

Crowley wanted to make whatever made him miserable go away. Aziraphale smiled, but the demons kindness just made him even more miserable.

"What? Did I say something wrong?"

"No, my dear. I'm sorry. I'm afraid it's nothing you can help me with.", he sighed. "You'll have to get used to the rain for a few days. I'll be alright by then. I hope."

Crowley sneered. He hated seeing the angel this way. It was unnatural.

"You sure I can't do anything? It's creepy seeing you like this."

Aziraphale shook his head.

"It's... personal. It has to do with... _feelings_."

"Angel, I know it has to do with feelings, otherwise your soul wouldn't cry buckets. It's not like I expected to come and find you with a scraped knee, kiss it better and leave again."

Aziraphale blushed and knew immediately that it had not gone unnoticed. The picture of Crowley... his lips upon a scraped knee .. _Oh dear._

"Unless... There is something I can kiss better?", he hissed, slowly coming closer.

Aziraphale sighed, knowing that at least a part of his secret was out.

"No. I'm afraid a kiss from you would only complicate things."

With all the courage he could muster, Aziraphale took Crowleys hands in his, caressing the demons knuckles with his thumbs, keeping his gaze on the demons chest to avoid looking at his eyes.

"I don't think I could bare it.", he mumbled, a single tear sliding down his cheek. He knew very well that in this very moment, Crowley was very much aware of what he was truly feeling.

Through their connected hands Aziraphale could feel that Crowley was fighting with himself.

"Sorry, angel, but that's unacceptable."

"What?"

"I'll explain it in a way that even you will understand.", the demon growled, coming one step closer and leaving literally no more space between them. His body was vibrating with anticipation, emitting heat and desire.

"I'm a demon. I'm selfish. I don't care if you can't bare it.", he hissed. "I'll just take what I want."

To describe the kiss that followed was almost impossible. It was innocent and urgent at the same time, hungry and fulfilling, loving and needy. It was too short and yet too long.

And when both opened their eyes again, they were not surprised that, although there were still rain-clouds in the sky, a few hesitant rays of sunshine hopefully sneaked through the cover of clouds.

"So... I'm being selfish, taking what I want from you.", Crowley stated. "And if that makes your miserable mood go away, then it's just a stupid coincidence."

"W-Well...", Aziraphale said, his heart beating a hundred miles an hour.

"I guess being selfish is in your nature. And I'm an angel. I'll help whenever I can..."


End file.
